He Traded My Trauma for Her Redemption

Ivy slithered through my life like a shadowy viper, and all I could do was let her.

Meanwhile, Jayden was like a flawless apple—always managing to keep himself clean.

Later, Ivy was taken away by juvenile detention.

I, on the other hand, was finally acknowledged by the Blumenthals, and I got into the same university as Jayden.

When he was courting me, he said he loved my kindness and innocence. I, in turn, was drawn to his gentleness and steady presence that made me feel safe.

I didn’t keep him waiting; after graduation, we got engaged.

I no longer feared Ivy’s return. That time, no matter what, I believed Jayden would protect me.

But reality gave me a harsh slap in the face.

Jayden validated the trauma I’d suffered. But somehow, he still believed Ivy deserved to be forgiven.

My vision blurred as my tears threatened to spill. He reached out, as if to wipe them away.

But his hand froze mid-air when his phone suddenly rang.

My eyes caught the caller ID.

It was just one word.

[Ivy]

A wave of despair crashed over me. Taking a shaky breath, I warned, “Jayden, if you answer that call now, we’re getting divorced tomorrow.”

He frowned, a mix of helplessness and frustration darkening his features.

“Cordelia,” he said, sighing, “if you want to be jealous, at least pick a better time. If Ivy’s calling me this late, something must’ve happened.”

He paused, then added with conviction, “Even just for the sake of our past, I shouldn’t ignore her call.”

With that, he pressed the accept button.

From the receiver came a soft, lilting voice. It floated into the room like perfume, light and lingering.

I let my tears fall freely then. I didn’t say another word; I simply turned and left.

Ten minutes later, I heard the rumble of Jayden’s car engine echoing through the courtyard.

I lay down on the bed, crying into the silence.

After all these years, Ivy still had the power to summon him with nothing more than a single phone call in the middle of the night.

Sleep was impossible that night. Following a bitter instinct, I pulled up Ivy’s livestream account.

There she was onscreen, her face as delicate and striking as ever. But that particular night, her smile was calculated—meant to please, to entice. She offered more than beauty to the people watching behind the screen.

Waving the phone in her hand, she said smugly, “I made the call. Whether he shows up or not… we’ll see.”

The comments flew by in a blur, but it didn’t take long for me to understand what was happening.

Jayden was her biggest supporter—the one who never typed a single word in the chat.

He was always there, night after night, lurking in her streams and flooding her with the priciest virtual gifts like some emotionless, automated donor.

[A love that ends without illness or pain]

That line kept flashing through the comment section, over and over again.

Soon, Ivy pulled Jayden into a joint livestream. Though only a part of his face showed on camera, even that glimpse revealed his striking features.

Her fans lost their minds. They flooded the chats with praise, gushing about how perfect the two of them looked together.

Some of them even begged her to ask him out—that very night.

She agreed. And he… actually showed up.

And his wife? I was left in the dark like a fool.

She kept speaking softly into the camera, her tone dreamy and wistful, dropping vague hints about how tangled her love life had become.

The stream only paused when the doorbell rang.

A few moments later, a man stepped into the frame—masked, mysterious.

“Hello, everyone,” he greeted warmly.

He stood tall and self-assured, dressed in a custom suit that practically oozed money.

Ivy’s eyes lit up with barely restrained joy and affection. She reached out and lightly tugged at the corner of his coat.

The chat exploded with two words.

[Perfect match!]

They were even already calling him her husband.

I sat there, watching—long enough for my eyes to burn and my chest to go numb.

Eventually, I closed my eyes. And the memories came rushing back. I thought of the year I married Jayden.

Even as an illegitimate daughter, I still brought considerable assets into the marriage.

With that, I helped him climb the career ladder with ease.

People whispered behind my back, claiming I bought his love with money. A few even had the nerve to ask him, publicly, why he chose someone like me.

Faced with such rude questions, he’d simply smiled politely. He’d brush them off with a joke or pivot the conversation somewhere safer